Death's Door
by semiramis
Summary: What happens when the first female knight of the realm dies and goes to the Realms of the Dead? Read and find out...and, no, it's not as morbid as the title suggests. Much OOC abounds. Really old piece.
1. Reunions

Yay! It's my first ficcy! *does little happy-dance* Anywho, I'm kinda new at this (me has never ever posted anything before, EVER), so please be gentle. So, now, onto the ficcy! (yes, I have very short author's notes, I know.)  
  
~~~~  
  
Chapter One: Reunions  
  
Alanna of Trebond, Olau, and Pirate's Swoop blinked bemusedly, trying to get her bearings. One minute, she had been in the middle of a battle, trying to fight what seemed like an entire regiment on her own, and the next, she was standing in a murky, musky forest, next to an old, mossy well.  
  
It smelled funny.  
  
"Now, how...? Hey! What happened to my voi-AAH! Oh, hi, Black God. Do you... you..." Alanna stared up and up and up at the towering god, suddenly realizing who she'd just identified him as. "...!!??!?!!"  
  
"..." said the Black God.  
  
"Don't feel like talking today?" asked Alanna. "Oh, alright. That's okay." She paused for a moment. "Come to think of it, since when did you ever talk to a mortal?" she mused, thinking back to the few times that she had met him before. He hadn't said much back then, either.  
  
"Hello," greeted the Black God in a bland, expressionless voice, putting on a bland, expressionless grin. It was the kind of smile people always wore when they took photos for a school yearbook, or driver's license, or passport... not that Alanna was aware of this, of course.  
  
"...Hi," replied Alanna when she finally got over her surprise. "...I take it I'm dead?"  
  
The Black God continued to grin blandly.  
  
"...Oh, okay. I'll take that as a yes, then."  
  
The god nodded twice and gestured at the well. Alanna looked at him oddly.  
  
"Huh? It's a well."  
  
He still continued to grin blandly and pointed his staff down the well. Grin. Smile. Nod, nod.  
  
"You want me to go down the well?" guessed Alanna. This was like playing charades. Alanna never liked charades. Numair always won. She suspected he took advantage of his magely powers. The Authoress is speaking in very choppy sentences. Choppy sentences are bad.  
  
Grin. Smile. Nod, nod. One eye glaring at digressing Authoress. ...Hey! (Wait, how can he see through the fourth wall, anyway?)  
  
Alanna, not noticing the Authoress' mumbling, glanced from the god to the well.  
  
"Uh... alright, then. Down the well it is, then."  
  
Grin. Smile. Nod, nod. Glare at Authoress for using the same three words to describe him all the time. (Nyaaaa! *blows raspberry*)  
  
Alanna hopped down the well AAAAAAAAAAA-  
  
~~~~  
  
-AAAAAAND landed at the feet of someone with a clipboard and blue ballpoint (which is odd, seeing as clipboards and ballpoints had yet to be invented).  
  
"Good day to you and welcome to the Realms of the Dead," droned a vaguely familiar voice. "I will be your guide from here on, as I'm sure the Black God has much more interesting things to do right now. We shall soon be proceeding to the Waiting Room, in which you shall sit and wait to be judged. You are welcome to the refreshments, but please be courteous to those around you. When it comes to your turn, please follow the lesser spirit..."  
  
Alanna looked up to see a pair of sneakers, followed by a pair of faded jeans, followed by a black t-shirt with the word "VOLUNTEER" printed in glaringly white letters on the front (none of which, might I add, had been invented yet, either). But the face...  
  
"THOM!?"  
  
"...will balance your v-Alanna! I was wondering how long it would take you to get here!" Thom exclaimed, pulling his twin to her feet. "It's been so long! How long have I been dead, anyway? It doesn't feel like that long, but time passes differently, when you're dead. Oh, you'll enjoy it, being dead, that is, there aren't any stupid rules about what happens to you when you get hurt and things, and..."  
  
"Thom?"  
  
"...expect you'll have no trouble getting cleared, what with being one of the Goddess' favored, and all. I..."  
  
"THOM!"  
  
"Hm?" asked Thom, getting out of chatter-mode and into attentive-listening- mode. "Yes?"  
  
"What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah, that." Thom waved a hand in the air. "Minos decided that I was bad in my lifetime, but not bad enough to deserve being sent to damnation for the rest of eternity, so I've been sentenced to doing 'volunteer work' for the Realm until the World Serpent lets go of her tail, or something bizarre like that. It's not that bad, really. But that's what I'm doing here, and why I'm in this ridiculous getup."  
  
It occurred to Alanna that his clothing was not as ridiculous as it had been in his lifetime, but she kept this thought to herself.  
  
"Okay, so... all you get to do now is spend Goddess knows how long guiding the dead to Minos?" she asked instead.  
  
"Well, no," amended Thom. "I also have to look after..."  
  
"DARLING!!!"  
  
"AAAH!" cried Alanna as she was smothered in a big ole' bear hug by one very enthusiastic Duke of Conté.  
  
"I'VE MISSED YOU SO! HOW HAS LIFE SUITED YOU IN THE TIME THAT I WAS AWAY? HOW HAS DEATH SUITED YOU SO FAR? HOW IS MY DEAR LITTLE COUSIN? DOES HE STILL WET HIS BED WHEN YOU PUT HIS HAND IN WARM WATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? HAS DELIA GOTTEN OVER THE BANANA SLUG INCIDENT YET? HOW IS ALEX'S 'LITTLE PROBLEM' DOING?"  
  
"...ghhhhhh...." wheezed Alanna. Some tiny part of her registered that Roger must not realize that both of the people he had just mentioned had died a long time ago.  
  
"...look after our smiling friend here," Thom finished calmly as the Duke started fawning and cooing over a very disturbed Alanna. "I don't think death suits him well. He lost the last vestiges of his sanity the second time he died, you know. 'S been disturbing the peace ever since. Once, he somehow got into Minos' study while he wasn't there and wrote 'I AM PUFF THE MAGIC WAGON' all over it in bright pink ink. And, before you ask, no, I don't know what 'puff the magic wagon' means. Nor do I have any idea how he got his hands on bright pink ink."  
  
Alanna, who had, indeed, opened her mouth to ask precisely those two questions, closed it and sighed.  
  
"Oh, okay. In that case... HOW DO I GET THIS SIMPERING LOON OFF OF ME?"  
  
Thom frowned at the duke for a moment. Then-  
  
"ROGER! DOWN! SIT! HEEL!"  
  
Roger stopped immediately and looked at Thom, his expression grim. Alanna felt apprehension well up in her chest; Roger looked just as he had forty- odd years ago in Corus, when he was the formidable and untouchable enemy that had cost her four years of her life...  
  
"Do you prefer regular or decaf?" Roger asked cheerfully with a broad, silly grin, breaking the mood. Alanna almost fell over in the unexpected release of tension. Thom, meanwhile, just shook his head sadly.  
  
"Alas, he was once a genius. Now his is reduced to this. Come, Roger, Alanna. We must proceed to the Waiting Room."  
  
~~~~  
  
Good? Bad? Ugly? (Stupid, stupid joke, me knows) Authoress wants know your opinion. R&R, please! 


	2. The Waiting Room

Sorry, sorry! Me is forget-ded to say the sacred disclaimer junk in my first chapter *gasp!*. So, here it is in this one: None of the characters belong to me except. er. alright, until further notice, no characters belong to me. Tortall does not belong to me. The underworld doesn't belong to me. but, then again, it doesn't really belong to anyone (mortal and living). The Tortall series does not belong to me. The cockapoo that lives across the street does not belong to me. Many other things do not, despite the fact that I have neglected to list them here, belong to me. The only thing that is mine is the plot (plot? There's a plot?) and characterization itself, as I'm sure Tamora Pierce has much better things to do than fiddle around with such a ludicrous abomination that mars the fair (or no longer so fair) face of literature. The poem about the rabbit belongs to one Charles Causley.  
  
I thank my reviewers, esp. those of you who told me exactly what you did or did not like (constructive criticism! save the inchworm! yay!), and do not mind that many of you (Roger: Many? There weren't that many! Hah! See, your readers are punishing you for making me a *censored* crackpot!) called it weird. Weird is good. I think I've called it weird multiple times myself. Weird is "special." Yes, that is a good word. "Special."  
  
BTW, please do not take it personally if I mock something that offends you (your favorite chara, Tortall's religion, death.). I mock anything and everything that has any reason to be mocked, and some things that don't, and, if I care to invite thunder to suddenly drop from a clear sky and leave me a nice, sizzling black spot on the pavement, that is my business and my business alone. (No one's going to notice one less wanna-be writer, insomniac student in this world, after all.)  
  
My friend, mistress-of-the-mile-long-author's-notes, is getting to me. So, on to the fic!  
  
~~~~  
  
Chapter Two: The Waiting Room  
  
Cheap, scratched-up benches. Cheap, stone-hard carpeting. Cheap, dry cookies. Cheap kool-aid punch mix. Cheap elevator music. Cheap, century-out- of-date magazines. (None of which, of course, had been invented yet.)  
  
"...um... cheap," commented Alanna, rather redundantly, as she took a seat in one of the benches. Which, by the way, stretched on as far as the eye could see, each seated with the souls of the dead-some of them chatting, some trying to stomach the "refreshments," some of them reading the magazines. The guy three people ahead of the lady knight was reciting poetry, apparently from memory. Alanna was not, in fact, quite all that certain of how she and Thom had gotten there-one minute, standing out in next to the well-chute, the next, here, which could have been its own dimension, filled with benches and benches and benches beyond imagining without anyone the wiser. And exactly WHERE was Roger?  
  
"I'll be right back," Thom informed her, before disappearing.  
  
Alanna picked up one of the magazines and tried to read. The first page she opened to was titled "Fashion Today: How to Style Your Hair in a Way that's You!" She put that down and picked up another. "Furniture for the Finicky." "How to Keep House (And Your Mind) as a Single Mom in Today's World." "Forerunners of the_ Homo Sapiens:_ An Advanced Study of the Australopithecus and Other Primordial Humans."  
  
She gave up on the magazines when she found the last one, just as Thom returned with two people.  
  
"...hunter jolly head / Over heels gone," recited the would-be poet next to her. "Jolly old safety catch / Not jolly on. / Bang went the jolly gun, / Hunter jolly dead, / Jolly hare got clean away. / Jolly good, I said."  
  
"Reminds me of someone," muttered a dry, vaguely familiar voice from one of the two people behind Thom.  
  
"Gee, I don't know who you're talking about," replied the other (also vaguely familiar, but more.vaguely.so) as they sat down, "But I like it!"  
  
"You would."  
  
And then, it hit her.  
  
"Neal of Queenscove! You're dead! And.you, too." She'd forgotten the other boy's name.  
  
"Owen," supplied Owen. "Hey, you're dead too! Great! Isn't it jolly? We can all be dead together!"  
  
"Yay!" cheered Thom, earning a stare from Alanna and Neal. "What?"  
  
Neal and Alanna decided not to comment.  
  
"How'd you get here?" asked Neal.  
  
"Fighting a regiment of soldiers. You?"  
  
"I was lynched."  
  
Alanna was not surprised.  
  
"I was lynched, too! It was jolly!" (Guess who?)  
  
"He said 'jolly' one too many times. The villagers we were supposed to protect couldn't take it any more. And Yuki's going to kill me when she finds out I'm dead."  
  
"How can she kill you when you're already dead?" asked Thom dryly.  
  
"She'll find a way."  
  
THWACK!  
  
"AAHH! YUKI! HOW DID YOU GET HERE?"  
  
"Astral projection," replied the shade of Yuki, before vanishing. Stunned silence.  
  
"Did I know she could do that?" asked Neal. "Did I know MY WIFE could do that?"  
  
"That was jolly!" (Ooh! That must have been.Thom! Not.)  
  
"Is everything jolly to him?" asked Alanna, frowning at the grinning boy.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Pause.  
  
".Hey, why does everyone look like they're in their twenties, anyway?" asked Alanna, randomly choosing a subject to drown out the sound of the cheesy elevator music.  
  
"Ah. convenience, really," Thom told her. "It's just easier this way. They."  
  
"But what about skewed perception?" interrupted Neal. "Evildeadguyus clearly states in his 'book of the dead' that the perception of the dead is skewed in such a way that."  
  
Uh-oh. Wrong subject. Neal and Thom both stood to tower over Alanna's head, apparently deciding to argue their points from there.  
  
"Evildeadguyus also clearly states that there are little blue men who wear white hats, live in mushrooms, and abduct souls to join their clan in their plan to take over the world with their nauseating singing and happy-go- lucky-ness, and I have never, in my forty years of working here, encountered a one!"  
  
"But."  
  
The two of them went back, and forth, and back, and forth... eventually, almost everyone around them was watching the argument intently, their eyes swiveling from person to person, as though watching a ping-pong match.  
  
(Insert fave passage of time indicator)  
  
"THE TOMATO IS A FRUIT, BY BIOLOGICAL DEFINITION!" Thom insisted, the first one to break down and yell. By this time, Alanna had quietly begun to shred magazines, trying to keep herself from exploding.  
  
"WELL, IT'S A VEGITABLE, BY CULINARY DEFINITION!"  
  
"IT'S..."  
  
"AAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGH!" screamed Alanna with the grace and tranquility of a charging rhinoceros as she jumped up and throttled both academics at the same time. "I CAN'T *censored* TAKE IT ANY *censored* MORE, *censored*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
FWACK!  
  
All those present stared at the BIG OL' GIANT SCYTHE embedded in the bench between Alanna, Neal, and Thom.  
  
Grin. Smile. Nod, nod. Guess who?  
  
"No infighting, please," monotone-d the black god, yanking out the scythe and sticking it (against all rules of physics) in his pocket, before cheerfully stalking off to.wherever.  
  
"That was jolly!" exclaimed someone who was not Owen, who had just appeared out of nowhere.  
  
"It WAS jolly!" agreed Owen.  
  
"It was very jolly!" cried Duke Roger.  
  
"It WAS very jolly!" agreed Owen.  
  
"That was very, VERY."  
  
"SHADDAP!!" screamed Alanna, panting heavily. Roger peered solemnly into her face for a moment, before taking out a bright pink permanent marker and drawing little hearts and stars all over her face.  
  
"AAAUUUUUGHHH!" Alanna shrieked, grabbing the Conté duke's head and throttling him. "DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE!"  
  
She dropped Roger onto the ground before stomping on him several times, as one might try to squish a virtually immortal bug.  
  
"DIEDIEDIE!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"I think she's killed him," commented Neal, glancing at the prone form of the Duke.  
  
"Really?" asked Owen enthusiastically. "Wow, that's j-"  
  
Owen was pounced on by half a dozen bystanders.  
  
"No, he's already dead," replied Thom, pretending that neither Owen nor his half-dozen antagonists existed. "He-Alanna, there's a minor spirit at your knee."  
  
"What?"  
  
"There's a minor spirit at your knee. Go with him.her.it," Thom told her as the spirit rose upwards to look Alanna in the face. "It'll take you to be."  
  
"AUUUGH! PERVERT!!" Alanna snarled, swatting at the little fluffball of light.  
  
".they're all like that," Thom sighed, shaking his head. "But, oh, well. Follow it. It's going to take you from here, to be atago-er, judged in the Court of Minos. Good luck, you'll need it. And, oh, make sure you cooperate. I'll warn you-if there's one god who hangs around here that you don't want to hang around with all day long, it's Minos."  
  
~~~~  
  
Ugh. Me no like this one as much as the other chapter. But, if you like, you can feel free to tell me what you think, anyway! Really! Go right on ahead! Click the H186 S253 L199 (the approximate computer definition of the color; I'm not even going to bother to try to get a color-name for it) button! 


	3. It's Mynoss

Disclaimer: stuff no belong to me, except plots and personas. There's no way TP is "touched" enough to make her chara behave in such an unseemly manner.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Chapter three: It's Mynoss  
  
(AN: thank you to Hello, I'm Emily for pointing out my spelling error. If it was not for you, I would still be referring to one of the great gods by the same name as the mythological Greek king whose airhead wife had an affair with a cow.)  
  
Midnight, and all's well. (I've always wanted to say that.)  
  
Well, perhaps not all.  
  
Three Shadowy Figures(tm) huddled in a Shady Corner (not tm), discussing in quite quiet (try saying that ten times fast) voices.  
  
"Where is she? I don't like this" asked one.  
  
"I don't know, Raoul," hissed the other. "She should be here by now."  
  
The third looked around nervously.  
  
"What if she got lost? Or worse, what if she didn't make it?"  
  
"Of course she'll make it," the second reassured, although he didn't sound so reassured himself. "She's the champion of the Goddess. Stop worrying, George."  
  
"Jon, that doesn't necessarily mean she'll make it," George insisted. Behind him, there was a soft, wet popping noise as a large mass was sucked through the ground. "I'm not sure they'll... Hey, where'd Raoul go?"  
  
"I don't know. Raoul? Raoul?"  
  
"Ra... AAAAAAAAHHHHH!"  
  
Dun dun duuuuuuum.....  
  
~~~~  
  
"Bailiff, if you will please swear in the defendant," wheezed the judge.  
  
"Put your hand on the holy Elbib, and repeat after me," instructed the hooded bailiff flatly. Alanna looked at him (her?) warily and put her hand on the Elbib.  
  
"I, Alanna the Lioness of Trebond, Olau, and Pirate's Swoop, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Mithros, Goddess, Black god, Gainel lord of dreams, Shakith..."  
  
Half an hour later...  
  
"...and Oozulsplat master of phlegm."  
  
"...and Oozulsplat...master...of phlegm," wheezed Alanna, quite out of breath. The bailiff had made her name all some hundred-forty-something gods that she knew, as well as many she didn't (she certainly had never heard of a master of phlegm, let alone one with a name as bizarre as Oozulsplat). The man had the memory of Numair.  
  
"Now," mumbled the judge, "Let us proceed. ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION TO ME?!!???"  
  
Alanna jumped a foot in the air as the judge went from whisper to yell in two picoseconds flat.  
  
"I didn't think so," the judge confirmed, reverting to mumble-mode. "Anyway. Scales, please."  
  
A minor spirit bobbed into sight, somehow carrying a pair of scales (which had, I repeat HAD been invented, for once!) about twenty times its size, and at least twenty thousand times its mass. The judge snatched the gleaming object away and set it on the dais, trying to zero it as the large, golden pans swung wildly.  
  
"Now. Let us begin," monotone-d the judge. A pair of minor sprites appeared, dragging a large burlap sack behind them. As they dropped it next to the scales, a few round objects spilled out.  
  
"What the heck is that?" asked Alanna, staring. It looked as though the bag contained nothing but marbles.  
  
"Your faults and..." began the judge, before looking more closely at the marbles. "...Oh, no, wait. These are nothing but the Thief God's marbles. SPRITES!!"  
  
The bag was whisked away and replaced by a different, exactly identical bag.  
  
"Here we are. Now. Let's see." He pulled a single marble out of the bag. "This one is...hm. Childhood, repeatedly dunking your brother in the..."  
  
"DADDY!" wailed a familiar voice as Duke Roger popped out of nowhere from behind the judge and hugging him around the head. "WE'VE MISSED YOU SO! WHY DIDN'T YOU EVER WRITE? MOMMY DIED OF A HERNIA LAST YEAR WHEN SHE HEARD ABOUT YOUR AFFAIR WITH THE PAPER PLATE!"  
  
"AAAAAAAUUUGH!" screamed the judge calmly, stomping Roger into the ground, where he stayed. After making sure of this, the judge cleared his throat and resumed, as though nothing had happened. "...lake after he vexed you for various reasons, including blowing up your favorite teddy bear when you were four."  
  
One of the sprites rose in the air, about to speak, when...  
  
"WAAAAIIIIT!"  
  
...a yell rang through the courtroom, causing the judge to trip and accidentally fling the marble across the room, where it ker-PLINNNG-d itself off a suit of armor, ricocheted off of the opening door, and buried itself in his forehead.  
  
"WHAT IS IT THIS TIME!!!????" roared the judge, turning a startling shade of magenta (which would have been quite pretty anywhere else, and complemented the teal-blue shade of the marble nicely) as Thom burst through the door, panting heavily.  
  
"Their supreme h-holy-nesses, the Mother G-Goddess and Mithros, the S-Sun God," panted Thom, holding the big, BIG, shiny, SHINY, heavy, HEAVY door open. The pair waltzed through and sat themselves down next to Alanna, who blinked profusely as Thom quietly sat down on her other side.  
  
"Hello, dear brother Mynoss," chirped the Mother Goddess, waving enthusiastically and nearly hitting Mithros on the head. "How is your job going?"  
  
"Horribly," snapped Mynoss, still in a flat mumble (if that's possible, which he made it so anyway), furiously shuffling a stack of papers. "You could have come later!"  
  
"Oh, but I don't want to miss my dear widdle baby's trial, iddn't that right?" she asked in a baby voice, pinching Alanna's cheeks. The Lioness, having NEVER seen this side of her patroness before, stared openly.  
  
Mithros elbowed the Mother Goddess (whom, due to my laziness, we shall from hereon refer to as MG).  
  
"Stop that!" he hissed.  
  
"Oh, foo," raspberry-d the MG, but stopping anyway.  
  
"May I please PROCEED NOW!!!???" Mynoss roared, eyes bulging.  
  
"Scary," muttered Alanna.  
  
"Sprites," prompted Mynoss, now completely calm again. He plucked the marble out of his forehead and held it in his hand.  
  
"Fault!" insisted one (whom we shall call Bob), bobbing in the air.  
  
"Unimportant!" squeaked the other (whom we shall call Joe). "She was defending herself!"  
  
"Fault!" cried the third (whom we shall call Tithonus). "She was not justified in the punishment!"  
  
Mynoss dropped the marble in the appropriate dish of the scale, which tilted slightly to the "fault" side. He then picked up another marble.  
  
"Healing many people, in hopes of amending the deaths of those she killed."  
  
"Virtue!" insisted Bob.  
  
"Fault!" squeaked Joe. "Some of the people she healed later went on to disrupt the Order!"  
  
"Virtue!" cried Tithonus. "She didn't know what would happen to her patients, and therefore was not discriminating in her aid!"  
  
This time, the balance tipped heavily towards Virtue.  
  
And so on....  
  
....  
  
"Horrible temper throughout her lifetime," Mynoss announced, squinting at the marble.  
  
"Fault!" insisted Bob.  
  
"Fault!" squeaked Joe.  
  
"Fault!" cried Tithonus.  
  
Mynoss dropped the marble in the large pile on the left (which mirrored the equally large pile on the right).  
  
THONK!  
  
"Uh-oh," muttered Alanna.  
  
"Don't worry," Thom assured her cheerfully. "Everyone's got some great vice like that."  
  
...  
  
"Killing Duke Roger!" announced Mynoss, holding the marble up above the two towering piles of marbles.  
  
"Virtue!" insisted Bob.  
  
"Fault!" squeaked Joe. "She landed US with the nuisance!"  
  
"Virtue!" cried Tithonus. "She rid the world of an evil that is now in the custody of her brother, and therefore mostly in check!"  
  
"Objection!" cried Roger, popping up from the ground.  
  
"What IS IT now?" demanded/mumbled/yelled Mynoss, spinning around to glare at the Duke.  
  
"YOUR BEDSHEETS ARE PINK!!!!" Roger announced to the world, giggling profusely. The divine judge got a hernia and died. And popped right back up. (AN: what exactly is a hernia?)  
  
"I HEREBY PLACE YOU IN CONTEMPT OF COURT! BAILIFF!"  
  
"NO!" cried Duke Roger as the bailiff dragged him forcibly away. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! NO! NOOOOO! I - Delia?"  
  
There was an awkward (hm, such an awkward word) silence as Roger pulled down Delia's hood and stared.  
  
"Hi," Delia greeted unenthusiastically, glowering.  
  
"Why! I haven't seen you in ages! How have you been doing? Oh, by the way, your friend the banana slug has missed you!" Roger chirruped, dropping a huge slug in Delia's fluffy, pretty hair.  
  
"EEEEEEK! GETTITOFF! GETTITOFF!" screeched Delia, dropping Roger and running first in a few panicked circles around the room, then through the big, BIG, shiny, SHINY, heavy, HEAVY door without opening it. The Delia- shaped hole in the door hesitated for a moment before closing with a "thhhhk" sound.  
  
"Ooooooooo," giggled Roger, as Thom grabbed him by the ear and sat the duke down next to himself.  
  
...  
  
"Now," monotone-d Mynoss. "Does anyone wish to testify?"  
  
"I don't, but I will," Mithros replied, glaring around at everyone as if to say 'Don't argue. If you do, I might not go through with this.' "She died in battle. I don't like her, being one of my idiot sister/consort's (AN: !!!???) little pet warriors."  
  
"Yay!" MG giggled, clapping her hands as Mithros dropped a little yellow ball to the scale, zeroing it perfectly.  
  
"And I would like to, too," MG added, popping a green ball into the scale. "For faithful service to me for so long."  
  
_Did someone call?_ yowled a black cat with amethyst eyes, hopping onto the dais.  
  
"No, actually," Mynoss replied. "So would you PLEASE GETOFF OF MY DAIS!!??"  
  
_Hmf. Fine, Mr. Territorial,_ sniffed Faithful, hopping off of the said piece of furniture... but not before flicking his tail in Mynoss' general direction in a rude gesture.  
  
"Alright. You made it. Barely."  
  
_C'mon,_ Faithful beckoned, hopping off of Alanna's lap. _I'll show you the ropes. It's party time!_  
  
~~~~  
  
Thank you to all my reviewers, especially those who, along with my RL friends, gave me suggestions and ideas (though I may not have used them the way you wanted me to...), and to my sybil-syndromed mother, who inadvertently provided me with the personas of both the Mother Goddess and Mynoss.  
  
And to my readers... R/R! PLEASE!!! 


	4. It's Party Time!

I own nothing! Nothing! Muahaha! ...except what I do own.  
  
BTW, I would like to apologize for the amount of time it took me to get this chappie out. I had a compounded form of writers block, namely a) the normal form, in which one can't think of HOW THE HECK TO WORK THIS THING OUT, b) laziness, c) academic concerns (aka, I'm hanging by a fiber in school -_-*), and d) my mother. Don't worry, this won't happen again for this particular fic unless my comp crashes, I've got everything else ready for posing except the proofreading and stuff.  
  
Aside from that, Yay! We have finally, after MUCH delay, reached the almost- last chappie of this fic! (Cheers from the peanut gallery) I'm so proud! (Boos and hisses from the peanut gallery) Anyway... *stomps heavily and nonchalantly on peanut gallery* this is the third-to-last installment of this horrendous production which I have the audacity to call a fanfic... and which had initially been intended as a one-shot, but, when I first (We interrupt your regularly scheduled author's intro-rant-thingy to bring you this special message: the weird blank spaces are supposed to be there. There is nothing, I repeat, nothing wrong with your comp. Thank you.) started, I noticed that it would have gotten too long to be a one-shot _. Oh, well. Anywho, to those of you who d(/c)are to read on... .... ... -_-* read on!  
  
Chapter four: It's Party Time!  
  
Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak awoke from a long sleep, groggy and disoriented (did you know that "orient" means east? That word makes absolutely no sense. How can one be "dis-easted?" I don't get it! I mean... *is clonked across the head by the Black G--  
(*beep. we're sorry, the number you have just dialed is currently unavailable. please hang up and try again.*)  
:)  
"NOOOOOOOOO!" echoed Raoul's panicked scream through the darkness. "NO! NOT THE PAINT! NOT THE PAINT! ANYTHING BUT THAT! N-AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHH!"  
  
Dun dun duuuuunn....  
  
~~~~  
  
Alanna found herself in the middle of a dance floor (complete with Disco Ball the Size of My Ego (tm) and flashy lights). She looked around and raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Welcome to the land of the dead!" Faithful meowed, sauntering towards a refreshments table. "Ooh, food!"  
  
Alanna frowned.  
  
"...I don't think..."  
  
"DAAARLINNNNNNG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"AAAACK!!" cried Alanna, dodging....  
  
Roger, who had not, in fact, been aiming at her, and Thom, who was attached to the duke's ankle and, apparently, praying. The unfortunate redheaded mage was dragged across a white-table-clothed table and through the bright red fruit punch as Roger hurtled himself at the server...  
  
"ALEX, MY DEAR! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN? HAVE YOU GOTTEN OVER YOUR LITTLE PROBLEM YET!?"  
  
"... .... ..." commented Alex of Tirragen, a sour look on his face.  
  
"Alanna! Thank the gods, we-gh!"  
  
"WHY, DEAR COUSIN! IT'S SO WONDERFUL TO SEE YOU!" Roger cried, flinging himself around Jon's neck.  
  
"...that's... nice..." Jon eeked out weakly.  
  
"Alanna! It was so terrible! We thought you hadn't died!" George cried, waving his arms about dramatically.  
  
"..." Alanna replied intelegently.  
  
"..." added Faithful.  
  
"..." retorted Roger.  
  
"..." commented Jon.  
  
"..." agreed Thayet.  
  
"Why is everyone talking in dots?" asked Alex, frowning.  
  
"I'm a San Francisco treat!" exclaimed Roger bouncily.  
  
"When did YOU die?" Alanna managed finally, but not before hurling Roger off into the distance.  
  
"Actually, I died a long time ago," Alex replied loftily. "And it was YOU, I believe, who..."  
  
"Not YOU, YOU!" Alanna screamed, pointing at Thayet, Jon and George. "How...when...why..."  
  
"Actually, there was this really persistent assassin who kept on following us around," Thayet informed her, contemplating.  
  
"So he finally finished you off?"  
  
"What? Oh, no. I tripped on Gary's paperwork and broke my neck," Jon replied while Thayet nodded along in the background. "And Thayet and Gary died similarly trying to check if I was alright."  
  
"Gary's dead, too?" asked Alanna.  
  
"Yup."  
  
"...okay..." Alanna replied, frowning. What a stupid way to go. "And how, pray, did YOU die?"  
  
"Me?" asked George. "Oh, it was rather silly, really. I found a cursed sow's ear..."  
  
"..a cursed SOW'S EAR?"  
  
"...that made all its owners die in ridiculous manners. I was accidentally killed by the guy trying to steal it from me, when he stepped on me in the fight. Heavy fellow, he was."  
  
"And this guy was stealing a SOW'S EAR?"  
  
"Hey, I'd turned it into a silk purse by then. And his manner of death was even stupider."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"He fell off a pier while impersonating a drunk and drowned."  
  
"..." commented Alanna.  
  
"Oh, what jolly fun!" exclaimed someone. All those present save Roger jumped.  
  
"Owen! Neal!" Alanna exclaimed. "How did you get here so fast?"  
  
"I don't know," Neal replied. "Ask the author."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Huh?" asked Neal. "What, did I say something?"  
  
"Neal! I was wondering when you'd get here!"  
  
"Hm? Oh, hello, Kel."  
  
Keladry of Mindelan grinned and her companions, Daine and Numair, waved.  
  
"Hello!!" Numair greeted, shaking hands cheerfully with everyone in the group. "You know, in all my years of study, I've never read that the land of the dead would be like this. Although Evildeadguyus does mention in his Book of the Dead that... mphfmmrfmhm...."  
  
"That's nice," Daine replied, stuffing a large bun in Numair's mouth to keep him from talking.  
  
"Hey, wasn't that the guy who wrote up the design for the Needle?" asked Kel, looking thoughtful. "I wonder..."  
  
"Hey, Jon," whispered Roger, poking Jon. "That's your wife, right?"  
  
"Uh...yeah..."  
  
Roger whispered something loudly in the king's ear (which I will not repeat here).  
  
"OH MY GODS!" screamed Thayet, shoving Roger violently back into the black hole he'd just crawled out of. Quantum physicists begged the author to make her do it again, so they could observe the phenomenon... but the greatest scientific discovery since sliced bread can wait. Not heeding this, everyone important to the (non)plot stared at Thayet. "What? Am I not allowed to punish perverts like him?"  
  
"But he's a jolly fellow!" Owen exclaimed, waving his hands.  
  
"Well, our friend Mr. Jolly Roger needs to..." began Thayet hotly, before a skull-and-crossbones motif floated by in a leisurely manner. Everyone stared.  
  
"I did NOT just see that," Alanna commented.  
  
"Okay, no, you didn't," replied Numair.  
  
"Hey, has anyone seen Raoul?" asked Gary, popping up behind Jon. He was holding a skull and crossbones poster. "I think he dropped this..."  
  
"Yeah, where DID he go?" asked George, contemplating. "One moment, he was right here with us, and the next..."  
  
"Uh oh...."  
  
"Did you LOSE Raoul?" asked Thayet, incredulous. "But we need him for the reception next week..."  
  
"We're not doing that any more, Thayet. We're dead, remember?"  
  
"...oh, yeah."  
  
"But how could you possibly loose something that BIG?" asked Faithful. Everyone stared at him. "Whaaat?"  
  
"I thought animals aren't allowed in the Realms of the Dead," commented Daine. "Huh. Odd."  
  
"Come to think of it, what are you doing here, too?" asked Numair. "Not that I'm complaining, but aren't you supposed to be with your parents?"  
  
"I dunno," Daine replied. "I..."  
  
KABOOM!  
  
"What was that?" asked Alanna.  
  
"Oh, that was probably the large, horrifically anachronistic nuclear weapon of mass destruction that Scanra, the Copper Isles, and Carthak had been creating together that I neglected to mention to you," George replied. "Sorry. Slipped my mind."  
  
"THAT somehow SLIPPED your MIND!!!???" Thayet demanded, glaring Bloody Daggers of Impeding DOOM at George, who wisely took the opportunity to take cover.  
  
Jon smiled cheerfully.  
  
"Well, I'm sure that the explosion will bring us plenty of new arrivals!"  
  
~~~~  
  
Migosh, is this thing developing a PLOT??? (It took long enough.though, I'm not sure if it can be considered a plot.)  
  
Onwards, if you dare! 


	5. New Arrivals

I own nothing but the plot. Tamora Pierce owns the characters and the serieses (how DO you pluralize series?). I'm certain she'd be VERY ashamed if she owned this monster of a one-shot that mutated into a.five or six shot. As for the rest. well, for fear of creating a spoiler, I'll tell you at the end ^_^.  
  
Chapter Five: New Arrivals (You do notice my blatant pattern for these, right?)  
  
Somewhere deep in the darkest recesses of the Divine World, where toadstools grew amok like many tiny evil mutants that sucked nutrients out of dead things...  
  
He was nearing his goal. Yeees, though it had taken millennia of plotting (well, only centuries, actually, but who's going to argue with a madman?), he had almost reached his goal. Almost... there...  
  
"Father, it is resisting," one of his minions informed him. (Father... ah, he liked that touch. Made it all.family-ish. Although, maybe he should have opted for "grandfather" instead...) "Phases one and two were successful, but it will not submit to... the final treatments..."  
  
"That is alright," he replied, smiling. "I can wait. Oh, yes, I can wait, for... this..."  
  
His laughter echoed through the darkness, a bizarre background to the incessant chant of the people he had adopted...  
  
"*fa la, la-la la la, la la la la la...*"  
  
~~~~  
  
"...that was utterly pointless and needlessly dramatic," Neal commented.  
  
"Stop breaking the fourth wall," commanded the... well, commanding voice of his wife. His wife!?  
  
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! YUKI!!!"  
  
"Stop acting like I'm the White Maiden," Yuki snapped. (Does anyone else know what this is? Please tell me I'm not just throwing pebbles at Roger's head, here...)  
  
"...the what?" asked Neal, Alanna, and Jon at once. (D'oh!)  
  
"Never mind."  
  
A moment of silence.  
  
"Ohmigod, we need to look for Raoul!!" exclaimed Thayet. "How could we have forgotten?"  
  
"Well," replied Neal, getting rather professor-y, "Chapter changes can do that to you. You see, in..."  
  
"STOP DOING THAT!!"  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Breaking the fourth... oh, never mind," Yuki sighed.  
  
"Oh, okay, good. The plot's not getting any younger with our stalling."  
  
"STOP THAT ALREADY!!"  
  
~~~~  
  
"Splitting up was a good idea. The Land of the Dead is a big place. Raoul could be anywhere. Yes. Staying in groups was a good idea. We could run into danger or get lost on our own. But WHY oh WHY was I stuck with THESE morons?" Alanna ranted, flinging her arms around.  
  
"Moron??" asked Kel, sounding hurt.  
  
"WE ALL LIVE ON A YELLOW SUB-TURREEN, A YELLOW SUB-TUREEN, A YELLOW SUB- TUREEN!!!" Roger sang at the top of his lungs.  
  
"REALLY?" asked Owen jolly-ly. "WOW, that's JOLLY!"  
  
"...okay, I see your point," Kel amended.  
  
The four of them trudged silently (apart from Roger's loud singing) through the evil, drippy caves, looking for any sign of a big, dead knight (apart from Kel).  
  
"How exactly are looking for him?" Alanna asked finally, after twenty minutes of walking. "I mean, the only way we'll find him this way is if we fall right on top ofOOAUUUUAGGGHHHH!"  
  
THUD.  
  
And Alanna did fall right on top of Raoul. Except he didn't look that much like Raoul anymore.  
  
"AAAH!!! WHAT HAPPENED!!!??"  
  
The usually cheerful knight looked rather blue. Literally.  
  
Instead of his usual knightly duds, Raoul was now wearing a set of white, puffy-ish pant-things. All of his skin that they could see was painted blue, and, even then, there were little blue... THINGS crawling on his head, trying to shave him bald (with little to no success, as he kept on shaking them off). They and Raoul seemed to notice the little search party at the same time.  
  
"AAAAH! NO! DON'T LET THEM GET YOU! RUN! RUN WHILE YOU CAN! IT'S NOT SA--"  
  
And the screaming knight was silenced by a bunch of little blue men securing his jaw shut with a c-clamp.  
  
"What is your business here" asked one.  
  
"You have no right to trespass," added another.  
  
"Leave now or face the consequences," finished a third.  
  
Awkward pause.  
  
Then, Alanna, Kel, and Owen burst out laughing. (Roger had somehow disappeared. AGAIN. I swear, the man's a regular Houdini...)  
  
"Do not MOCK the might of the mighty SMURFS!!" cried a dozen minute, high- pitched, nasal voices at once. The sound was ear-grating enough to make the three dead knights stop in horror.  
  
"Leave us now!" one of them (they were all identical and therefore indistinguishable) squeaked.  
  
"Not without our friend!!!" Owen drama'd.  
  
"Fa. La. La."  
  
"GHK..." Alanna cringed.  
  
"Fa. La. La..."  
  
"DON'T GIVE IN!!" Raoul cried. "THEY'LL EAT YOUR BRAINS!!! -oh no, wait, that's zombies..."  
  
"Fa la, la-la la la..."  
  
"I'm not listening, lalalalalala, I'm not listening," Owen insisted, plugging his ears. Kel and Alanna looked at each other, shrugged, and followed suit.  
  
"WE'RE NOT LISTENING!!! WE'RE NOT LISTENING!!!"  
  
The smurfs frowned at this new obstacle.  
  
"Fetch... the FATHER!!!" one of them, probably the leader, commanded in his squeaky voice. (Insert creepy organ chord here)  
  
A pause.  
  
Another pause.  
  
Another, longer pause.  
  
"Well?" asked Alanna.  
  
"Hang on, we need to file a request..."  
  
Later.  
  
A shadow appeared on the wall. A large, strangely misshapen shadow, distorted by the flickering candlelight...  
  
It shrank gradually until another smurf appeared at Alanna's feet. The only difference between this one and the others was that it was older, and had a beard.  
  
"THIS is IT?" asked Kel, disbelieving.  
  
"Do NOT MOCK the FATHER!" insisted all of the smurfs at once in squeaky, ear-grating voices. Winces from the normal-sized people.  
  
"So, what do we have here?" the Father, aka Papa Smurf, cackled, leaning on his big weird stick/twig-thingy (depending on your POV).  
  
"A rescue party," Alanna replied simply. "So if you would kindly return our friend he-"  
  
"NEVER!" Papa Smurf interrupted, switching from old-guy mode to insane- weirdo mode in negative eight seconds flat. "I WILL NOT GIVE UP MY SUPER- DUPER-ULTRA-SECRET PROJECT AFTER ALL THESE YEARS OF WAITING!!"  
  
"...huh?"  
  
"YOU OPPRESSORS THOUGHT TO STIFLE MY GENIUS, DID YOU? WELL, I'VE RETURNED NOW! AFTER MILLENIA OF CAREFUL PLANNING, INFILTRATING THE SOCIETY OF THESE CREATURES, ESTABLISHING A GOVERNMENT OF COMMUNISM OVER THEIR SIMPLE COMMUNITES, TAKING THEM IN AS MY CHILDREN, RUNNING EVERY ASPECT THEIR PITIFUL LIVES BEHIND THEIR BACKS, SEARCHING FOR THE RIGHT INDIVIDUAL TO COME MY WAY... ALL TO CARRY OUT MY PLAN!!!"  
  
"Fellow likes to talk in caps a lot, doesn't he?" mused Owen, tapping his chin.  
  
"AND NOW, NOW MY PLANS HAVE FINALLY COME TO FRUITION! NOW, I, EVILDEADGUYUS, CAN FINALLY TAKE REVENGE FOR THE WRONGS DONE TO ME BY THE GODS! THEY, WHO UNJUSTLY PUNISHED ME MERELY FOR CONTINUING TO PUBLISH EVEN AFTER I DIED, THEY, WHO DARED TRY SILENCE THE GREATEST OF."  
  
"Wait a minute," Kel interrupted. "Did you just say... could you repeat the last bit for me?"  
  
"Wot? Oh, of course, dear. THEY, WHO UNJUSTLY PUNISHED ME MERELY FOR CONTINUING TO PUBLISH EVEN AFTER I DIED, THEY, WHO DARED TRY SILENCE THE GREATEST OF MINDS..."  
  
"No, before that."  
  
"Before? Oh, you mean NOW, I, EVILDEADGUYUS, CAN FINALLY TAKE REVENGE FOR THE WRONGS DONE TO ME BY THE GODS! Is that what you wanted?"  
  
"Why, yes, thank you." Kel grinned evilly and advanced upon the smurf.  
  
"W-wait... what do you want..."  
  
"Oh, same thing as you," Kel replied offhandedly, still smiling creepily. "REVENGE..."  
  
"Um... ah... SMURFS!" cried Evildeadguyus, panicking. "TO ME!!"  
  
An obedient, brainwashed wave of blue rose to crash over our heroes...  
  
And stopped dead as Roger popped out of the ground.  
  
"Did you know that the lifespans of honey bees are measured by the distance they fly?" Roger perky-ed.  
  
The smurfs oooh-ed and aaah-ed, converting from one maniac to the other in an instant and following Roger... wherever as the mad duke disappeared.  
  
"WAIT! YOU CAN'T ABANDON ME!! I'M..."  
  
"Ah, go corrupt some other random locals," snapped the last retreating smurf, harrumphing at its pitiful (former) leader. Evildeadguyus watched it go with wide, scared eyes.  
  
"Now, where was I?" Kel cackled, cracking her knuckles.  
  
Not a happy day for Evildeadguyus...  
  
~~~~  
  
"Well, that's that, then," commented George, coiling up the last of the rope that had been restraining Raoul and storing it somewhere.  
  
"Yup."  
  
"No, it's not!" Raoul peeved. "What about the blue paint!?"  
  
"Oh, it should wash out in a few centuries," Thom replied, slapping Raoul on the back. "Don't worry about it."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No, it'll be fine."  
  
An expectant silence.  
  
"Hello?" Neal prompted, waving his hands at the Authoress. "We're waiting for a 'the end' here?"  
  
(Oh, it's not the end yet. We still have one last stunt to pull...)  
  
~~~~  
  
A/N: The smurfs belong to whomever the smurfs belong to. I just know I don't own them for sure. 


	6. One Last Stunt to Pull

Disclaimer: I own nothing. La dee da. Except what I do own. La dee da.  
  
Part Six: One Last Stunt to Pull  
  
Roald of Conté fell to his knees, the pile o' rubble that used to be Corus smoking icky-ly around him.  
  
"Oh WOE is me!" cried Roald piteously, the very picture of drama. "Hath fair Corus truly fallen to these knaves?/ Shall all that my father strove to build/ Turn to dust, and be for naught?/ Then what, foresooth, is hope for life?"  
  
The prince drew his dagger, which gleamed ominously in the post-apocalyptic sun.  
  
"If I could take this blade of mine,/ Keen and true as the cries of the dead,/ And PIERCE my heart to end my strife/ Know, oh GODS, I would!!"  
  
He lifted it high above his head; the sun SHONE upon its purposeful path... which landed in the dirt, buried up to the hilt.  
  
"But nay, as heir and soon as King,/ I MUST survive, to lead the folk!/ Oh father, may thy anguished soul/ Be, by this dagger, soon avenged!"  
  
Roald doubled over, shaking with grief.  
  
"FATHER!!!!!"  
  
Meanwhile...  
  
*the "camera" scans downwards, THROUGH the ground, THROUGH the crust, THROUGH the mantle, THROUGH the outer core, THROUGH the inner core, THROUGH the outer core, THROUGH the mantle, THROUGH the oceanic crust... to come out facing the Wave Walker playing poker with a rather ugly-looking anglerfish*  
  
"What are YOU people doing here?" asked the Wave Walker asked, before the anglerfish swallows the camera.  
  
...oops. There goes some five gazillion dollars...  
  
Anyway...  
  
Thanks to modern technology (and a nice little something called a SPARE), we are able to cut to the Land of the Dead, where the Black God has just begun to sing the end theme!! (Authoress grabs a bag of popcorn and plops down to enjoy the massa- um, show.)  
  
Black God: *slow and deep, like a funeral dirge* A long, long time ago I can still remember how that music used to make me smile  
  
And I knew if I had my chance That I could make those people dance  
  
And maybe they'd be happy for a while.  
  
(Thom: *cringe* he needs to take voice lessons...)  
  
Alanna: But February made me shiver  
  
With every paper I delivered,  
  
(Roger: Muahaha! *repeatedly whacks Jon, Alanna, George, and Thayet on the head with a newspaper with the help of his new followers... and gets pounded into the ground by Thayet and Alanna*) Alanna: *still pounding Roger* Bad news on the door step,  
  
I couldn't take one more step,  
  
Neal: I can't remember if I cried  
  
When I read about his widowed bride (Yuki: hint, HINT, my dear)  
  
Neal: *edging away* But something touched me deep inside,  
  
The day the music died.  
  
So...  
  
All: Bye, bye Miss American Pie (Jon: What's American? Thayet: Say CORUSIAN!!)  
  
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry (Mithros and MG dance in in a cardboard Chevy)  
  
Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey 'n' rye  
  
Singin' this will be the day that I die. (Thayet and Alanna, STILL pounding Roger into the ground: DIE, DIE, DIE!!! )  
  
This will be the day that I die.  
  
Thom: Did you write the book of love  
  
(Roger: *escaping Thayet and Alanna* why, actually, yes, I did! *waggles eyebrows *) And do you have faith in God above, (Goddess: It's GodDESS! How many times do I have to tell you people that!!?!!!???)  
  
If the bible tells you so. (Mithros: What's "bible?" others: shrug)  
  
And do you believe in rock 'n' roll?  
  
Can music save your mortal soul? (Faithful: la LAAAAAA la LAAA!!!)  
  
And can you teach me how to dance real slow? (Roger: *grabs Jon about the waist, both somehow suddenly wearing flapper outfits* Dance with me, my darling! Promise me we'll dance forever! Smurfs: *follow Roger's example*)  
  
Thayet: Well I know that you're in love with him  
  
Cuz I saw you dancin' in the gym. (Jon: NO! NO YOU DIDN'T!!! AAUGH, LET GO OF ME, YOU PERV! Roger: OOHOOUAHAHAHAHA! *reels around in a wild jig.Jon in tow, smurfs behind*)  
  
You both kicked off your shoes (Jon: GIVE THOSE BACK!! Smurfs: *run off with shoes*)  
  
And I dig those rhythm and blues.  
  
Gareth the Elder: I was a lonely teenage bronkin' buck  
  
With a pink carnation and a pick up truck (Alanna: actually, it was a pink bathrobe Thom: A carnation is a flower, oh wise one!)  
  
But I knew I was out of luck,  
  
The day the music died. (Roger: *WHONK* Hum dee dum dee da. *drags away dead body*)  
  
I started singin'...  
  
All: Bye, bye Miss American Pie (Thayet: CORUSIAN!! Roger: *flushing a piece of pie down the toilet* Bye-bye!)  
  
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry  
  
Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey 'n' rye  
  
Singin' this will be the day that I die.  
  
(Alanna: *beating up on Thom* DIE, DIE, DIE!!!!!) This will be the day that I die.  
  
Kel: Now for ten years we've been on our own  
  
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone (Owen gets beaned by a mossy, rolling stone)  
  
But that's not how it used to be,  
  
When the jester sang for the king and queen (Roger: *in Jon and Thayet's ears* YODELLAY-YODELLAY-YODELLAY-HEE- HOOO!)  
  
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean (Thayet: *attempts to strangle Roger with a red coat*)  
  
And a voice that came from you and me.  
  
Thom: Oh and while the king was looking down, (Jon: *looks down*)  
  
The jester stole his thorny crown (Roger: Mine, mine, MINE!!!! NYAHAHA! Jon: HEY! GIMME THAT! *gets swarmed by smurfs*)  
  
The courtroom was adjourned;  
  
No verdict was returned. (Mynoss: WHAT!!?? *shuffles through a mountain of papers* I'LL see that that... *muttermuttermutter*)  
  
Raoul: And while Lennon read a book on Marx,  
  
The quartet practiced in the park (The four SOTL books danced a little jig Alanna: *Stare* I did NOT just see my life's history waltz by...)  
  
And we sang dirges in the dark, (Black God: Fa la-la la LAAAAA.)  
  
The day the music died. (Books: GAK! *fall over and die*)  
  
We were singin'...  
  
All: Bye, bye Miss American Pie (Thayet: CORUSIAN!!!!)  
  
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry (Roger: *dumps all the water he stole from the levee on Alanna* And that's why!)  
  
Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey 'n' rye  
  
Singin' this will be the day that I die. (Alanna: DIE, DIE, DIE!)  
  
This will be the day that I die.  
  
Numair: Helter Skelter in a summer swelter  
  
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter, (Daine: WAIT FOR MEEEEEE!!!) Eight miles high and fallin' fast.  
  
(*Crown and her groupies fall in Kel's lap* Kel: Huh? I thought only humans were allowed here!)  
  
It landed foul on the grass.  
  
The players tried for a forward pass  
  
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast. (Roger: Now, now, Alanna, I know you love me, but you don't have to be so forward about it! Alanna: *WHONK* Pervert.)  
  
Daine: Now the half-time air was sweet perfume (Delia: *sprays perfume all over the place*; Others: *cough, cough, gag, hack*)  
  
While the sergeants played a marching tune. (Dom: *on a trumpet* BLATTT! Raoul: *digs pinky in ear, trying to regain his hearing*)  
  
We all got up to dance  
  
Oh but we never got the chance. (Roger: WHAT? No dancing? *sniffle* *gets comforted by a bunch of suck-uppy smurfs)  
  
Neal: As the players tried to take the field  
  
The marching band refused to yield. (Evin Larse: GET OUTTA MY WAY!)  
  
Do you recall what was revealed, (Roger: I can reveal... Others: NO!)  
  
the day the music died?  
  
We started singin'...  
  
All: Bye, bye Miss American Pie (Roger and smurfs: *launch pies in everyone's faces with giant salad-tosser Thayet: CORU-MFFMMHFFM!! *chokes on pie cream*)  
  
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry  
  
Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey 'n' rye (Coram: Bottoms up!)  
  
Singin' this will be the day that I die. (Thayet: *wiping cream off of face while stomping blindly on Roger and smurfs* DIE, DIE, DIE!)  
  
This will be the day that I die.  
  
Owen: Oh and there we were all in one place,  
  
A generation lost in space (Roger: *bounces around in a space suit with while Thom tries desperately to catch him* Smurfs: *also bounce around in space suits, though ignored by Thom*)  
  
With no time left to start again.  
  
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.  
  
Jack Flash sat on a candle stick (Candle stick: Ouch!)  
  
Because fire is the devils only friend. (Roger: *sets Jon's hair on fire*)  
  
Alanna: Oh and as I watched him on the stage, (Roger: *dances around nimbly as Jon chases him around with his sword drawn*)  
  
My hands were clinched in fists of rage,  
  
No angel born in hell  
  
Could break that Satan's spell. (Jon: *stepping on Roger's back, waving sword dramatically* But you betcha _I_ can! *gets clobbered by smurfs*)  
  
Daine: And as the flames climbed high into the night (Cloud: DIE, you stupid raiders!*stomp*)  
  
To light the sacrificial rite  
  
I saw Satan laughing with delight, (Roger: HAHAHAHAHA!!!!)  
  
The day, the music, died.  
  
He was singin'...  
  
All: Bye, bye Miss American Pie  
  
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry (Owen: *dives into the levee, only to crack his skull on the dry bed* Ouch! I'M OKAY!!!)  
  
Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey 'n' rye (Roger: *tries to force an entire bottle of whiskey (including the bottle) down Daine's throat*)  
  
Singin' this will be the day that I die. (Daine: DIE, DIE, DIE!)  
  
This will be the day that I die.  
  
Dom: I met a girl who sang the blues (Kel: I've got the BLUEEES for YOOUUUU)  
  
And I asked her for some happy news  
  
But she just smiled and turned away. (Kel: hmph!)  
  
I went down to the sacred store  
  
Where I'd heard the music years before  
  
But the man there said the music wouldn't play. (Raoul: Nope. No music here. Nossir.)  
  
Kel: And in the streets the children screamed, (Lalasa: EEEEK! EEEEK! EE-oh, wait, it was children. Never mind!)  
  
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed. (Neal: SNOOOOORE Yuki: *jabs Neal in the ribs* wake up. You're no poet.)  
  
But not a word was spoken,  
  
The church bells all were broken. (Roger: *smashing church bells* MUAHAHA!)  
  
Si-cham: And the three men I admire most, (Roger, Me, Myself, and IIIIIIIII!!! Thom: *WHONK!* Yeah, sure)  
  
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost,  
  
They caught the last train for the coast, (Train: CHOO CHOOOOOO!)  
  
The day, the music, died.  
  
And they were singin'...  
  
Roger: Bye, bye Miss American Pie  
  
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry (Smurfs: *scream fangirlishly*) Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey 'n' rye  
  
Singin' this will be the day that I die.  
  
This will be the day that I die. (Alanna: OMIGOD...DESS! ROGER CAN SING! Tammy: *shrug* well, what did you expect? I DID write him to have the most musical voice you'd ever heard in a man...)  
  
All: They were singin'... Bye, bye Miss American Pie  
  
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry  
  
Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey 'n' rye  
  
Singin' this will be the day that I die. (Faithful: so merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Alanna: It's not Christmas. Kel: What's Christmas?)  
  
~~~~  
  
Okay, now it's the end.  
  
(The song, Bye, Bye Miss American Pie (but not the comments) belongs to Don McLean.) 


End file.
